I Have Told You to Stop
by Briony8869
Summary: I took canon Dean/Castiel interactions from season 8 and pushed them just a little bit further. Spoilers through season 8 episode 17. Warnings: contains kinda sorta character death (not really but kind of) and Naomi. It's a one shot Destiel fic with some hurt/comfort, a considerable amount of angst, and a little bit of humor.


"You can't save everyone, Dean. Though you try."

Dean stared out of the passenger's seat of the Impala, letting the landscape blur past and thinking about those words. Every once in a while he'd check the rearview mirror to make sure Castiel hadn't zapped off anywhere, and every time he'd see the stubbly, familiar face of his angel. It was so weird having him sit back there like a kid they were driving to school. His skin prickled at the thought of Castiel so close, _his _Castiel. Not out of his mind, not busting their ass in purgatory, just _there. _For the tenth time he absently glanced back up to the mirror, but this time there were blue eyes reflected there, meeting his. He snapped his attention back to the window, trying not to flush.

"You can't save everyone." Castiel had said. Dean shifted in his seat, wanting to say that he knew that, how could Castiel think he didn't know _that_, of all things? You know how many people he hadn't saved? How many poor saps with a demon in them he'd snuffed out because he had to? He tried all right, but he could stand to try a lot harder.

"We could probably make it to Chicago tonight if we keep going." Sam said. "You up for it?"

"Sure. You need a break from driving, Sammy?" Dean asked half-heartedly.

"Nah man, I'm fine." Sam said. "How are you doing Cas?" He asked the back seat, again making Dean feel like they were parents driving a kid around.

"I need neither sleep nor sustenance, I am content to accompany you wherever you decide to go." Castiel replied.

"Uh, ok." Sam said, smirking over at Dean with a "those wacky Angels!" face. But Dean was looking out the window and pretending his palms hadn't started to sweat at the phrase "content to accompany you."

They made it to Chicago at about 11:30, and Sam used his preternatural skill for detecting the motel that still had a vacancy.

Castiel offered to zap off and do some Crowley searching while Dean and Sam slept. Before Dean could protest Sam agreed gratefully, and Castiel disappeared. It was strange how Cas did that, it was less like Bewitched style teleportation and more like your attention just shifted for a second and then he wasn't there anymore. Dean had never gotten used to that.

He found himself sliding into the stale motel sheets to the sound of Sam's snores in the next bed, feeling restless and unsatisfied. It took him about an hour of lying in the dark with his eyes open, listening to the air conditioner and his friggin' brother before he whispered "fuck this…" and climbed out of bed. He slipped outside the motel room into the cool night air, leaning over the balcony and staring at the lights of Chicago. He bowed his head. _Cas? _He prayed, and for once it worked. Castiel stood in front of the staircase at the end of the walkway, looking incongruous in front of the vending and ice machines.

"Hello Dean." He said, calmly, like he'd been expecting to be called. "You prayed for me."

"I did." Dean looked down at his feet, which were bare on the concrete of the walkway. "I feel like, we… I need you to clear some stuff up for me."

"I thought I was very clear this afternoon Dean. I let go of your hand. You no longer need to feel any guilt at my expense."

"I get that, you don't need saving. But… I don't get…" Dean stammered a little, trying to get his thoughts together. He walked over to where Cas was standing so he could look him in the eye. "Why did you stay with me?" He finally asked, "If you were never going to leave, why did you run all over purgatory with me and Benny?"

Castiel swallowed.

"You wouldn't let me leave you." he replied.

"Bullshit Cas, you're a friggin' angel, I don't _let_ you do anything. You can do whatever you want."

"I wanted to protect you."

"Which would make sense if you weren't Leviathan bait." Dean said, stepping even closer. They stared at each other for a moment in tense silence, both strangely illuminated in blue from the light of the vending machines. A door in the hallway opened and a middle-aged shirtless man stepped out of his motel room with an ice bucket. He took one look at the two men standing so close to one another by the ice machine and just awkwardly stepped back inside his room and shut the door.

"We shouldn't have this discussion now. Not here." Castiel said, and a car honked from the parking lot, as though to back him up.

"What are we discussing?" Dean asked, and it was a challenge. Castiel frowned and touched Dean's forehead and suddenly they elsewhere. Dean's stomach churned but he looked around to get his bearings. They were in a brick alley, illuminated by some neon lights and signs. "Wait… is this… is this where you beat me up that one time?"

"No one will bother us here." Castiel said. Dean turned his attention back to his friend, refusing to be sidetracked.

"Why did you stay with me? Why did you even grab my hand in the first place?" Dean asked with determination.

Castiel took a deep breath, looking nervous and frustrated. When he spoke his voice was softer and deeper than Dean had ever heard it.

"I think you know, Dean."

"Do I?" Dean asked, nerves shooting through him. Was this happening? He couldn't believe this was happening and yet at the same time his body was thrumming with a nervous energy that felt real.

Castiel swallowed again, and his eyes narrowed.

"I think it was for the same reason you kept this coat in the trunk of the Impala for a year."

"Fuck you." Dean said. "Just say it."

Castiel shoved Dean back into the wall, only slightly more gently than he had a few years ago when he was trying to beat some sense back into him. Their faces were centimeters apart.

"I couldn't leave you once you were there, with me." Castiel said, sounding frightened, vulnerable. "I wanted to, I should have. It was weak."

Dean turned his face up and his nose actually touched Castiel's they were so close. He could feel Castiel's breath on his face.

"But I couldn't." Castiel continued, and his voice cracked. "I couldn't just let you leave when you were so close to me. You're my weakness Dean, I'll do anything for you." Castiel almost desperately pressed his lips into Dean's. It was like years of tension had just torn open and Dean kissed back furiously, grabbing handfuls of Castiel's trenchcoat and trying to pull him even closer.

"I need you to say it." Dean said, gasping as Castiel began to kiss his jawline, his neck, running his hands from Dean's hips up under his t-shirt.

"I love you." Castiel whispered, hoarsely, pressing his face into Dean's neck and kissing him between sentences. "I love you I love you I love you."

Dean grabbed the sides of Castiel's face and silenced him with another kiss, rough and frantic.

"I prayed for you every night." Dean whispered.

"I heard you." Castiel said.

"Don't leave me again." Dean pleaded, kissing Castiel possessively.

"I… oh…" Castiel couldn't respond because Dean's hand had made its way to Castiel's crotch and all of his concentration shifted to that one sensitive area.

"I want you to fuck me in this alleyway." Dean growled into Castiel's ear.

And Castiel had every intention of doing what he was told, but he found himself blinking in the light of a white room, across from a woman he suddenly knew was named Naomi. Her expression was grim, like a victorian schoolmarm.

"This is unacceptable Castiel." She said, shifting uncomfortably in her office chair.

"You… you've no right…" Castiel said, disoriented and still breathing heavily. This was worse than a cold shower.

"This is heaven Castiel, there are no rights. You're spewing out half understood social theories your human boyfriend slept through in high school. You will stop because I have told you to stop."

"We have to stop." Castiel told Dean, stumbling back from the disheveled hunter.

"Wha?" Dean muttered, sweetly. His lips were plump and damp and swollen and his cheeks were flushed and his hair was mussed and Castiel _ached_ for him, but instead of pulling his precious Dean back into his arms he pressed two fingers into Dean's forehead and returned him to his bed, sans memory of the last hour.

"This is going to be problem, isn't it?" Naomi told Castiel, back in her white glowy room.

"Go to hell." Castiel said.

"Those aren't your words Castiel, they're his. We were right to think you'd grown too close to him, you've become an abomination."

"Why are you doing this?"

Naomi tilted her head, ever so slightly.

"You're broken Castiel. I'm here to fix you."

A few weeks later Sam stumbled into the kitchen of their new bunker home to find Dean dancing to Yes in his PJs and making french toast. From the looks of it pretty good french toast, there were strawberries and everything.

"Um. How did this happen?" Sam asked, confused.

"What?" Dean grinned, whisking a few drops of vanilla into the egg mixture as the skillet heated up. The room smelled like syrup and butter.

"You raised me Dean. There was no french toast when I was six. There were Lucky Charms and Tang."

"We didn't have a kitchen back then, asshole." Dean muttered, dipping a thick slice of fresh white bread into the eggs and dropping it into the skillet with a satisfying sizzle. "Lisa did."

"You cooked for Lisa?"

"Yeah dude. I didn't want to be a TOTAL deadbeat messed up boyfriend." Dean's throat clenched. Any mention of Lisa brought back memories of how that whole situation had ended and didn't bear dwelling on. "Unlike you apparently who just made ramen the whole year you lived with Amelia?"

"Don't." Sam said, forehead furrowing. Dean nodded and changed the subject.

"Here, strawberries. So it's healthy." Dean pushed the bowl of fruit towards his brother.

"I'm just… I'm kind of surprised by how cozy you are here Dean." Sam said taking a bite of a strawberry.

"The digs are nice. We're fighting evil. You're here." Dean said, picking up a cup of coffee. "What's not to like?" He asked with a smile. He took a sip looking almost content, but his eyes were far away.

"I wonder what Cas is up to?" Sam asked, reading his brother's face fluently.

Dean's throat tightened up again.

"Don't." He echoed his little brother.

Sam put his hands up in resignation. Noticing something, he looked back up at his brother in surprise.

"Hold up… you bought ORGANIC SYRUP?"

"I know my audience man." Dean grinned, taking the first batch of hot french toast off the skillet and onto the serving plate. "You're friggin' welcome."

Castiel watched this exchange, unseen, from the corner of the kitchen.

"What does this make you feel? Castiel?" Naomi asked.

"I want to join them." He said.

"That is a desire, not an emotion. Does it make you feel anything?"

Castiel's eyes remained riveted on Dean. Dean was wearing embroidered Pajamas that had initials that were not his own, and his eyes crinkled in pleasure as he watched his brother tear into a huge stack of french toast.

"Love." Castiel said, not wanting to say it, not wanting Naomi to distort what he was feeling into something she could use.

"Mm." Naomi said. "that is unfortunate, but not unexpected."

Suddenly it was several weeks previous and a very attractive Hispanic woman was kissing Dean in a small room.

"What does this make you feel?" Naomi asked Castiel.

Dean pulled back after hardly kissing her at all.

"Good." Said Castiel, with a small smile.

"He's thinking about you." Naomi said. "He doesn't remember you kissing him but he's still thinking about you."

Castiel didn't respond to that, feeling nothing but regret with a soft undertone of lust that he couldn't quite repress even though he knew Naomi was going to make him pay for it later.

And then Castiel was back in heaven, back in her glowing warehouse that was so bright it made his vessel's eyes water. In the old days when things made sense, and there was a God, and heaven wasn't full of angelic corpses, he would have been torn out of his vessel for a reprimand like this. Human vessels can feel pain, quite a bit of it, but his true form was something else entirely. Pain wasn't the correct word for what he felt in his true form.

But this wasn't like it was before; Naomi was something different. He wasn't being reprimanded for getting too close to the humans in his charge. He was being _remade_. Every once in a while he'd dab his eye and there would be blood, and Naomi would get that little worried line on her forehead and he'd end up someplace else, disoriented. He wasn't sure if half of what he remembered was true, or if he was being allowed to remember much of anything really.

Dean walked in to the warehouse, and Castiel knew that he had to kill him. He walked over to do the job.

"Cas?" Dean asked. He smiled happily in recognition and his voice was hopeful.

Castiel pulled out his knife.

"Hello Dean." He said.

"Cas, what are you doing?" Dean's face fell in fear and betrayal as he asked the question, and he began to back away.

"I…" Castiel hesitated. "I'm not sure." He hit Dean in the face and laid him out.

"You don't have to do this Cas!" Dean called out, crawling away.

"I… I have to?" Castiel said with uncertainty, voice breaking, grabbing Dean by the front of his shirt.

"CAS!" Dean shouted.

"I'm sorry." Castiel managed to whisper as dug the knife into Dean's gut. Tears streamed down Castiel's face as he held his friend tightly against him, blood covering his suit and trench coat. "I'm so sorry," he wept, pressing his face into Dean's shoulder.

"That was terrible Castiel. You are an embarrassment." Naomi said sharply. "Again."

Dean walked into the warehouse, and Castiel knew that he had to kill him. He walked over to do the job.

The bunker got a little chilly at night so Dean remembered to grab an extra blanket before sliding into _his_ bed.

"Hello mattress." He whispered, grinning to himself as he felt the memory foam contour to the shape of his body. "Did you miss me?"

The mattress didn't respond apart from doing its job as a mattress, which was probably a good thing really. Dean closed his eyes sleepily to pray. He wasn't sure if Sam still prayed every night. He always used to, ever since he was a little kid. But being Lucifer's vessel might have kicked some of that piety out of him, or made it stronger, Dean honestly didn't know. All he knew was that _he_ prayed every night now, and he hoped angels were listening. Well, just the one.

"Cas." He prayed out loud. "If you're listening, look out for Sam. He's in trouble and he's not talking to me. I know, what's new, right? And… can I pray for you? Is that weird? Will heaven implode or something? You're too hard on yourself. Be safe."

"Oh, Dean." A gruff voice whimpered from the corner of the room. "You never pray for yourself."

"Cas?" Dean sat up lightning quick, completely awake. He flicked on his bedside light, and illuminated the raggedy shape of his Angel friend, crumpled in the corner. "Did you drink another liquor store?" he asked.

"You… you can see me? She's not here?" Castiel asked, eyes flicking around the room. He looked a little manic, and Dean was unpleasantly reminded of his old friend Crazy!Cas.

"Who's not here? You ok Cas?" Dean climbed out of bed. Apparently the embroidered pajama top was only worn for modesty in front of Sam because right now he was shirtless in silk pajama bottoms.

"Dean." Castiel reached up to his friend, who helped him stand up off the floor. "I'm so sorry. I keep hurting you."

"It's ok Cas, everything's ok." Dean helped a shaking Castiel make his way over to the bed and sat him down. "I'll get you some water or something." Dean stood up but Castiel grabbed his arm.

"No, she'll be back soon. Dean, stay with me please." Castiel almost begged. He looked totally wrecked, and Dean wasn't sure what to do. He sat back down on the bed and started rubbing Castiel's back. It was what he used to do when Sam was sick, or had had a nightmare.

"Who's she?" Dean asked again.

"Naomi." Castiel said. "She's making me hurt you."

"Well she's a bitch." Dean said. "And I'm going to gank her."

"Dean." Castiel looked up and touched the side of Dean's face delicately. Dean's breath hitched.

"Cas?" He responded, and he made no further attempt to stand up.

Castiel leaned forward slowly and kissed Dean gently. Dean sat still, frozen for a second before thawing and kissing back.

"You're a good man, Dean." Castiel whispered, threading his fingers through Dean's hair.

"Well you're an angel." Dean replied softly, pushing Castiel down on to the bed. "I guess you'd know." He started to undo Castiel's tie, and Castiel sighed.

"Do you love me Dean?" Castiel asked, as Dean kissed his neck and undid the buttons of Jimmy Novak's shirt.

"fuck, Cas… I…" Dean paused for a minute, nervous. "I pray to you every night."

"I love you Dean." Castiel said, stroking the side of Dean's beautiful freckled face. "No matter what, I love you."

"God help me Cas, I love you too. I fucking love you, you nerdy angelic bastard." Dean kissed Castiel passionately, pressing his body down into Castiel's partially disclothed frame.

But all of a sudden a force threw Dean into the wall, and he found himself face to face with a brunette woman with an updo and an expression of cold, bitter hatred. He realized after a second that the vice like grip on his throat was coming from her tiny pale hand.

"God won't help you Dean. God doesn't help anybody." The woman said, and pressed her hand into his forehead. The last thing Dean heard before blacking out was Castiel shouting his name.

When he woke up the next morning not even the memory foam had any recollection of last night's happenings. When Sam asked why his voice was so raspy he shrugged and rubbed his neck and figured he was coming down with something.

In heaven Castiel wiped some blood away from his eye as he stood over another fake Dean corpse. It was starting to get easier. God help him.


End file.
